American Star

by Jackie Collins

  She edged closer to the side of the bar-which doubled as the stage -and

  squatted down. He inserted the money into her G-string, grabbing a

  quick feel at the same time.

  "Later," she hissed. "It'll cost you more than twenty."

  ù He was insulted. He'd only ever paid for it once, and that was the

  day he got out of jail. But still, paying for it wasn't such a bad

  thing.

  At least you knew where you were.

  He winked at her. She winked back. As far as he was concerned they

  had an agreement.

  After coffee on the terrace Lauren went inside and finished packing.

  Lorenzo had wanted to come around but she'd put him off. "What are you

  doing tonight?" he'd asked.

  "Staying home."

  He'd sighed. "Lauren, Lauren-one more night on the town before you

  fade into retirement. Please, I beg you.

  "Well. . . maybe."

  Going to dinner with Lorenzo was a temptation she didn't need.

  She'd accustomed herself to the life she had now. No sex.

  What are you, a nun, Roberts?

  No, but I have the strength of character not to play around on my

  husband.

  Oh, get off your soapbox.

  At two o'clock her phone rang again. If it was Lorenzo she decided to

  tell him that she wouldn't have dinner with him after all. Why tempt

  fate?

  "Hey, Lauren."

  She held her breath for a moment. "Who's this?" she asked, although

  of course she knew immediately who it was.

  "Nick."

  "Nick," she repeated dumbly.

  "It's been a long time. How are you?"

  "I'm leaving in a couple of days," she said quickly "Oliver and I are

  moving to France."

  "I want to see you."

  "It's not possible."

  "Lauren, it's my birthday. Remember old times? You always looked

  after me on my birthday."

  "You know what happens every time we see each other, Nick," she said

  weakly.

  "Five minutes of your time, that's all I need."

  "For what?"

  "You can't spare me five minutes on my birthday?"

  "Oh, Nick, come on, this is ridiculous."

  "Be downstairs in half an hour. I'm on my way."

  Before she could say anything he hung up.

  She paced around the apartment, undecided about what to do.

  Then she realized that since there was obviously no stopping him she'd

  better see him.

  You don't have to.

  Oh, yes, I do!

  She felt totally wired as she ran into her bedroom, stripping off the

  boring silk shirt and skirt she had on and reaching for her favorite

  faded jeans and a familiar sweatshirt-it wouldn't do to look like she'd

  tried. Then she brushed her hair, added soft shadow around her eyes

  and a blusher to her cheeks. She stared quickly at her reflection.

  Talk about glowing. She looked alive for the first time in a long

  while.

  Here we go agazn.

  She put on tennis shoes, grabbed her Oliver Peoples shades and ran

  downstairs.

  "Do you need a cab, Mrs. Liberty?" the doorman asked.

  "No, no, that's okay," she said.

  "It's cold out," he said.

  "It's not that cold. The sun's shining."

  "If you're going for a walk you'll need a coat."

  "I'm not walking, Pete. Somebody's picking me up. I'll only be out

  for five minutes."

  What was she explaining herself to the doorman for?

  "Oh, by the way, Mrs. Liberty," lie said, handing her an envelope.

  "I was supposed to give you this letter today. Mr. Liberty left it

  for you. I was about to bring it up to your apartment when you came

  down. Saved me a trip."

  She glanced at the envelope and recognized Oliver's handwriting.

  Quickly she opened the letter and read it.

  My dear Lauren, I have known for some time now that you -are not

  completely ùhappy. The truth is, neither am I. I feel that both of us

  are compromising our true feelings, and that we would be better off

  apart. I have never wished to be treated as a burden, and whether you

  know it or not that's what our relationship has become. Over the last

  few months I have become quite close to Peggy during the course of our

  negotiations for the farmhouse. She is a wonderful woman-nearer to me

  in age, and quite ready for a settled life. You, my dear, are not. So

  I arranged with Lorenzo to keep you in New York. It's where you

  belong.

  I am releasing you, Lauren, because I love you, and we will have better

  lives apart.

  Of course, I quite understand "I've waited for you ever since I left

  Bosewell, and I'm not waiting any longer.

  She sighed. "Nick, don't do this to us again."

  "Why?"

  "Because "Listen, Lauren-I love you and you love me. You can't fight

  it any longer1 For a moment she thought how simple it would be to agree

  with him, because that's what she really wanted to do. But there was

  too much he didn't know about her. He didn't know she'd killed his

  father. He didn't know she'd killed his baby. And if he knew those

  things he wouldn't want to be with her anyway.

  She glanced at her watch. "Your five minutes are up."

  "What five minutes?" he said, steering the Ferrari onto the highway.

  "You agreed to five minutes."

  "I lied."

  "Oh God, Nick, don't start."

  "I'm taking you for a ride in my plane."

  "I'm not going in your plane."

  "Oh, yes, you are.

  "No way."

  "Will you shut up? Just shut up for once."

  Why did I let him talk me into this?

  Because you wanted him to.

  So do like he says-shut up and enjoy it.

  She leaned back in her seat and didn't say another word.

  Forty-five minutes later they were at the private airstrip. "Come on,"

  he said. "Out.

  "I told you, I'm not going in a plane with you."

  "Maybe I should knock you out and carry you over my shoulder.

  What do you think?"

  "You're crazy, Nick Angel."

  He grinned, so happy to see her. "Yeah, yeah, you told me that

  before.

  Shouldn't come as a shock to you."

  She knew she should back out, but she was already drawn into the

  game.

  She got out of the car and walked with him to the plane.

  "Another five minutes," she said sternly The letter continued on in the

  same vein, and she read it filled with mixed emotions. Oliver wanted

  out! He was releasing her!

  Oh, God! Free at last!

  Free to do whatever she wanted!

  The timing was unbelievable. And the best thing was she didn't have to

  feel guilty, because he'd found someone else. Pocketing the letter she

  peered through the glass doors, impatiently waiting, pacing up and down

  until eventually she saw the Ferrari approaching-red, of course.

  She rushed outside. It had been four years since she'd seen him, and

  her heart was in overdrive. He looked a little ragged, but it was

  still her Nick.

  He leaped out of the car. "Hey-" "You're crazy, you know that?" she

  said, speaking too fast.

  He took her hand. "Get in the car."

  "Five minutes," she sai
d, her heart beating wildly.

  "Yeah, yeah."

  Pete was standing at the entrance staring. He'd suddenly realized it

  was Nick Angel she was with. Before he could recover she jumped in the

  car and Nick took off.

  "Happy birthday," she said.

  "You're my present," he said.

  "I am, huh?"

  "I need to tell you something."

  "What?"

  ù "Sure," he said.

  She shook her head. "This is the last time I'm going anywhere with

  you, Nick."

  "Hey-never say never.

  "Why not?"

  Cause you could live to regret it."

  He took her hand and helped her aboard.

  "Five minutes," she repeated.

  "Hey-whatever you say.

  7

  ow much do you think he wants?" Cyndra asked.

  41t's not the money," Marik said. "It's what he can do to us."

  "What do you mean?" she said fearfully.

  "Think about it," Marik said, sounding calmer than he felt. "Over the

  last few years you've had massive national publicity. You've been on

  all the shows talking about pride and strength and women not allowing

  themselves to be abused. How do you think it'll look if Reece spills

  his guts?"

  "Where's he staying?" she said, thinking about how she could put a

  stop to Reece Webster once and for all.

  "Our driver followed him. He's at the Hyatt on Sunset." Marik peered

  at her suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

  "Why not?" she said flatly.

  "You're not to try and talk to him," Marik said warningly. "You're to

  leave this to me and Gordon."

  "What's Gordon got to do with it?"

  "We'll need his help," Marik said. "I've already called him. He's

  coming right over."

  "Damn!" she said.

  "What?"

  "I don't want him involved."

  "Cyndra, baby," Marik said patiently. "This is big-time stuff. We've

  got to work it out carefully. A payoff has got to mean just that. A

  onetime score-no coming back for more. We need Gordon's brain in on

  this."

  "All right," she said reluctantly. "But I don't want to see him-it's

  too humiliating. I'm going to bed."

  He came over and kissed her. "Don't worry, baby. It'll all be taken

  care of."

  You bet it will, she thought. By tomorrow morning Reece Webster will

  be history.

  The sinewy blonde took him back to her apartment, fucked him, then

  demanded three hundred dollars.

  He laughed in her face.

  "Pay up, bastard," she said, "or I'll set my boyfriend on you."

  "I'm Reece Webster," he said disdainfully. "That's who I am. Not some

  dumb john off the street."

  "I don't give a cocksucking crap who you are," the blonde replied.

  "You're payin' an' ain't that the truth."

  Reece zipped up his pants, pulled on his boots and reached for his

  Stetson. He'd been threatened by bigger and better than this dumb "You

  ain't worth three bucks, let alone three hundred," he cooze.

  sneered.

  "I hate cheap cocksuckers," she said.

  "And I hate cheap whores," he said, walking through her front door.

  She picked up a heavy glass ashtray and hurled it after him. The

  jagged edge of the ashtray hit him on the side of the head, making a

  deep gash in his temple and knocking his hat to the floor.

  "Bitch!" He reached up and felt sticky blood pumping from the cut.

  She ran over and slammed the door shut, leaving him out in the

  hallway.

  At least he hadn't paid the whore.

  He stooped to pick up his hat and felt dizzy. For a moment he slumped

  against the wall, his hand holding the wound. Soon his hand was

  covered with slippery blood.

  Better get out before her boyfriend arrives, he thought, feeling quite

  unsteady on his feet. The goddamn bitch had hurt him. She'd pay for

  this.

  He staggered downstairs, blood dripping onto his jacket and soaking

  through the fabric.

  Out on the street a woman walking past took one look at him and quickly

  shrank back.

  Christ! What was going on? He hardly had the strength to walk.

  He blinked once, twice, tried to clear his head and remember where he'd

  parked his car.

  The streetlight cast an eerie glow. He sat down on the curb, putting

  his head in his blood-soaked hands. Nausea overcame him and he threw

  up.

  Goddamn it, better get to his car and get out of here.

  Cyndra crept into Topaz's room and watched her baby sleeping. The

  little girl was so cute. She had a snub nose, wide eyes and Marik's

  tight curly hair.

  Carefully Cyndra extracted her thumb from her mouth. "No buck teeth,

  Topaz," she whispered softly. "Gotta think beautiful."

  Back in her own bedroom she went to her closet and changed into a black

  track suit. Then she pulled her hair severely back, covering it with a

  squashy Garbo-type hat. Large sunglasses completed her disguise.

  Unrecognizable, she thought. As Cyndra, her public image was cascades

  of long dark hair, shimmering gowns and provocative makeup.

  Reece Webster was threatening her future. Marik thought money would

  solve the problem. Cyndra knew it wouldn't.

  She reached for her purse, checked that the small pearl-handled

  revolver was loaded, and slipped quietly down the back stairway into

  the garage.

  Reece slumped behind the wheel of his car. He was lucky to have made

  it. He had a headache from hell, and blood was still pumping from his

  wound. Ripping off his jacket he held it to his head and started the

  engine.

  One hand on the wheel and one hand holding his head, he set off toward

  his hotel.

  Cyndra took the nanny's station wagon-best not to call attention to

  herself with her Rolls or Marik's Jaguar. She locked the doors-second

  nature for a woman driving alone in L.A.-and drove down the hill.

  The car was weaving. Reece felt it swaying this way and that-he

  couldn't seem to control it. All he had to do was get back to the

  hotel, put a dressing on his head and lie down. He'd be fine after a

  rest.

  It occurred to him that maybe he needed to go to an emergency room.

  But those places were always filled with the lowest of the lowgunshot

  wounds, stabbings, heroin overdoses. Who needed it? Besides, he

  should be at the hotel in case Marik phoned. Didn't want to miss the

  deal of the century.

  Three million bucks. That's what he'd decided to ask for. And cheap

  at the price.

  The sound of a blaring horn almost made him swerve off the road.

  Bastards! Why didn't people concentrate on their driving instead of

  hassling him?

  He saw the hotel in the distance and slowed down.

  More blaring horns.

  Goddamn it, people didn't know how to behave anymore.

  Cyndra found a space on the street and got out of the station wagon,

  locking the doors with a remote control.

  Bump! Big bump!

  Fuck, someone hit him. What did he care, it wasn't his car, only a

  rental.

  Christ, his head was getting ready to explode. Was he at the hotel

 
yet? Must be. He could hear noise, confusion. Leaning on the

  steering wheel he closed his eyes while blood dripped steadily onto his

  new cowboy boots.

  There was something going on outside the hotel. Cyndra hurried along

  the street, glancing over as she approached the entrance. A car had

  crossed over to the wrong lane and smashed into two other cars.